LETTER 20.
LONDON, April 5, 1711.
I put my nineteenth in the post-office just now myself, as I came out of the
City, where I dined. This rain ruins me in coach-hire; I walked away
sixpennyworth, and came within a shilling length, and then took a coach,[1]
and got a lift back for nothing; and am now busy.
6. Mr. Secretary desired I would see him this morning; said he had several
things to say to me, and said not one; and the Duke of Ormond sent to desire I
would meet him at Mr. Southwell's by ten this morning too, which I did,
thinking it was some particular matter. All the Irish in town were there, to
consult upon preventing a Bill for laying a duty on Irish yarn; so we talked a
while, and then all went to the lobby of the House of Commons, to solicit our
friends, and the Duke came among the rest; and Lord Anglesea solicited
admirably, and I did wonders. But, after all, the matter was put off till
Monday, and then we are to be at it again. I dined with Lord Mountjoy, and
looked over him at chess, which put me in mind of Stella and Griffyth.[2] I
came home, and that dog Patrick was not within; so I fretted, and fretted, and
what good did that do me?
And so get you gone to your deans,
You couple of queans.
I cannot find rhyme to Walls and Stoyte.--Yes, yes,
You expect Mrs. Walls,
Be dressed when she calls,
To carry you to Stoyte,
Or else HONI SOIT.
Henley told me that the Tories were insup-port-able people, because they are
for bringing in French claret, and will not SUP-PORT. Mr. Harley will hardly
get abroad this week or ten days yet. I reckon, when I send away this letter,
he will be just got into the House of Commons. My last letter went in twelve
days, and so perhaps may this. No it won't, for those letters that go under a
fortnight are answers to one of yours, otherwise you must take the days as
they happen, some dry, some wet, some barren, some fruitful, some merry, some
insipid; some, etc.--I will write you word exactly the first day I see young
gooseberries, and pray observe how much later you are. We have not had five
fine days this five weeks, but rain or wind. 'Tis a late spring they say
here.--Go to bed, you two dear saucy brats, and don't keep me up all night.
7. Ford has been at Epsom, to avoid Good Friday and Easter Sunday. He forced
me to-day to dine with him; and tells me there are letters from Ireland,
giving an account of a great indiscretion in the Archbishop of Dublin, who
applied a story out of Tacitus very reflectingly on Mr. Harley, and that
twenty people have written of it; I do not believe it yet.[3] I called this
evening to see Mr. Secretary, who has been very ill with the gravel and pain
in his back, by burgundy and champagne, added to the sitting up all night at
business; I found him drinking tea while the rest were at champagne, and was
very glad of it. I have chid him so severely that I hardly knew whether he
would take it well: then I went and sat an hour with Mrs. St. John, who is
growing a great favourite of mine; she goes to the Bath on Wednesday, for she
is much out of health, and has begged me to take care of the Secretary.
8. I dined to-day with Mr. Secretary St. John; he gave me a letter to read,
which was from the publisher of the newspaper called the Postboy;[4] in it
there was a long copy of a letter from Dublin, giving an account of what the
Whigs said upon Mr. Harley's being stabbed, and how much they abuse him and
Mr. Secretary St. John; and at the end there were half a dozen lines, telling
the story of the Archbishop of Dublin, and abusing him horribly; this was to
be printed on Tuesday. I told the Secretary I would not suffer that about the
Archbishop to be printed, and so I crossed it out; and afterwards, to prevent
all danger, I made him give me the letter, and, upon further thought, would
let none of it be published: and I sent for the printer, and told him so, and
ordered him, in the Secretary's name, to print nothing reflecting on anybody
in Ireland till he had showed it me. Thus I have prevented a terrible scandal
to the Archbishop, by a piece of perfect good fortune. I will let him know it
by next post; and pray, if you pick it out, let me know, and whether he is
thankful for it; but say nothing.
9. I was to-day at the House of Commons again about their yarn, at Lord
Anglesea's desire; but the business is again put off till Monday. I dined
with Sir John Stanley, by an assignation I had made with Mr. St. John, and
George Granville, the Secretary at War; but they let in other company, some
ladies, and so we were not so easy as I intended. My head is pretty
tolerable, but every day I feel some little disorders; I have left off snuff
since Sunday, finding myself much worse after taking a good deal at the
Secretary's. I would not let him drink one drop of champagne or burgundy
without water, and in compliment I did so myself. He is much better; but when
he is well, he is like Stella, and will not be governed. So go to your
Stoyte's, and I'll go sleep.
10. I have been visiting Lady Worsley and Mrs. Barton today, and dined
soberly with my friend Lewis. The Dauphin is dead of an apoplexy; I wish he
had lived till the finishing of this letter, that it might be news to you.
Duncombe,[5] the rich alderman, died to-day, and I hear has left the Duke of
Argyle, who married his niece, two hundred thousand pounds; I hope it is true,
for I love that Duke mightily. I writ this evening to the Archbishop of
Dublin, about what I told you; and then went to take leave of poor Mrs. St.
John, who gave me strict charge to take care of the Secretary in her absence;
said she had none to trust but me; and the poor creature's tears came fresh in
her eyes. Before we took leave, I was drawn in by the other ladies and Sir
John Stanley to raffle for a fan, with a pox; it was four guineas, and we put
in seven shillings apiece, several raffling for absent people; but I lost, and
so missed an opportunity of showing my gallantry to Mrs. St. John, whom I
designed to have presented it to if I had won. Is Dilly[6] gone to the Bath?
His face will whizz in the water; I suppose he will write to us from thence,
and will take London in his way back.--The rabble will say, "There goes a
drunken parson"; and, which is worse, they will say true. Oh, but you must
know I carried Ford to dine with Mr. St. John last Sunday, that he may brag,
when he goes back, of dining with a Secretary of State. The Secretary and I
went away early, and left him drinking with the rest, and he told me that two
or three of them were drunk. They talk of great promotions to be made; that
Mr. Harley is to be Lord Treasurer, and Lord Poulett[7] Master of the Horse,
etc., but they are only conjecture. The Speaker is to make Mr. Harley a
compliment the first time he comes into the House, which I hope will be in a
week. He has had an ill surgeon, by the caprice of that puppy Dr. Radcliffe,
which has kept him back so long; and yesterday he got a cold, but is better
to-day.--What! I think I am stark mad, to write so much in one day to little
saucy MD; here is a deal of stuff, indeed! can't you bid those little dear
rogues good-night, and let them go sleep, Mr. Presto? When your tongue runs
there's no ho with you, pray.
11. Again at the lobby (like a lobcock)[8] of the House of Commons, about
your Irish yarn, and again put off till Friday; and I and Patrick went into
the City by water, where I dined, and then I went to the auction of Charles
Barnard's books; but the good ones were so monstrous dear, I could not reach
them, so I laid out one pound seven shillings but very indifferently, and came
away, and will go there no more. Henley would fain engage me to go with
Steele and Rowe, etc., to an invitation at Sir William Read's.[9] Surely you
have heard of him. He has been a mountebank, and is the Queen's oculist; he
makes admirable punch, and treats you in gold vessels. But I am engaged, and
will not go, neither indeed am I fond of the jaunt. So good-night, and go
sleep.
12. I went about noon to the Secretary, who is very ill with a cold, and
sometimes of the gravel, with his champagne, etc. I scolded him like a dog,
and he promises faithfully more care for the future. To-day my Lord Anglesea,
and Sir Thomas Hammer, and Prior, and I dined, by appointment, with
Lieutenant-General Webb.[10] My lord and I stayed till ten o'clock; but we
drank soberly, and I always with water. There was with us one Mr.
Campain,[11] one of the October Club, if you know what that is; a Club of
country members, who think the Ministers are too backward in punishing and
turning out the Whigs. I found my lord and the rest thought I had more credit
with the Ministry than I pretend to have, and would have engaged me to put
them upon something that would satisfy their desires, and indeed I think they
have some reason to complain; however, I will not burn my fingers. I will
remember Stella's chiding, "What had you to do with what did not belong to
you?" etc. However, you will give me leave to tell the Ministry my thoughts
when they ask them, and other people's thoughts sometimes when they do not
ask; so thinks Dingley.
13. I called this morning at Mrs. Vedeau's again, who has employed a friend
to get the money; it will be done in a fortnight, and then she will deliver me
up the parchment. I went then to see Mr. Harley, who I hope will be out in a
few days; he was in excellent good humour, only complained to me of the
neglect of Guiscard's cure, how glad he would have been to have had him live.
Mr. Secretary came in to us, and we were very merry till Lord Chamberlain
(Duke of Shrewsbury)[12] came up; then Colonel Masham and I went off, after I
had been presented to the Duke, and that we made two or three silly
compliments suitable to the occasion. Then I attended at the House of Commons
about your yarn, and it is again put off. Then Ford drew me to dine at a
tavern; it happened to be the day and the house where the October Club dine.
After we had dined, coming down we called to inquire whether our yarn business
had been over that day, and I sent into the room for Sir George Beaumont.[13]
But I had like to be drawn into a difficulty; for in two minutes out comes Mr.
Finch,[14] Lord Guernsey's son, to let me know that my Lord Compton,[15] the
steward of this feast, desired, in the name of the Club, that I would do them
the honour to dine with them. I sent my excuses, adorned with about thirty
compliments, and got off as fast as I could. It would have been a most
improper thing for me to dine there, considering my friendship with the
Ministry. The Club is about a hundred and fifty, and near eighty of them were
then going to dinner at two long tables in a great ground-room. At evening I
went to the auction of Barnard's books, and laid out three pounds three
shillings, but I'll go there no more; and so I said once before, but now I'll
keep to it. I forgot to tell that when I dined at Webb's with Lord Anglesea,
I spoke to him of Clements, as one recommended for a very honest gentleman and
good officer, and hoped he would keep him. He said he had not thought
otherwise, and that he should certainly hold his place while he continued to
deserve it; and I could not find there had been any intentions from his
lordship against him. But I tell you, hunny, the impropriety of this. A
great man will do a favour for me, or for my friend; but why should he do it
for my friend's friend? Recommendations should stop before they come to that.
Let any friend of mine recommend one of his to me for a thing in my power, I
will do it for his sake; but to speak to another for my friend's friend is
against all reason; and I desire you will understand this, and discourage any
such troubles given me.--I hope this may do some good to Clements, it can do
him no hurt; and I find by Mrs. Pratt,[16] that her husband is his friend; and
the Bishop of Clogher says Clements's danger is not from Pratt, but from some
other enemies, that think him a Whig.
14. I was so busy this morning that I did not go out till late. I writ to-
day to the Duke of Argyle, but said nothing of Bernage, who, I believe, will
not see him till Spain is conquered, and that is, not at all. I was to-day at
Lord Shelburne's, and spoke to Mrs. Pratt again about Clements; her husband
himself wants some good offices, and I have done him very good ones lately,
and told Mrs. Pratt I expected her husband should stand by Clements in return.
Sir Andrew Fountaine and I dined with neighbour Vanhomrigh; he is mighty ill
of an asthma, and apprehends himself in much danger; 'tis his own fault, that
will rake and drink, when he is but just crawled out of his grave. I will
send this letter just now, because I think my half-year is out for my lodging;
and, if you please, I would be glad it were paid off, and some deal boxes made
for my books, and kept in some safe place. I would give something for their
keeping: but I doubt that lodging will not serve me when I come back; I would
have a larger place for books, and a stable, if possible. So pray be so kind
to pay the lodging, and all accounts about it; and get Mrs. Brent to put up my
things. I would have no books put in that trunk where my papers are. If you
do not think of going to the Bath, I here send you a bill on Parvisol for
twenty pounds Irish, out of which you will pay for the lodging, and score the
rest to me. Do as you please, and love poor Presto, that loves MD better than
his life a thousand millions of times. Farewell, MD, etc. etc.
